catching fire like kerosene
by thatssupersketch
Summary: Bakugou hopes that taking a leap might be worth it. Or he could fall flat on his fucking face. It's a fifty-fifty shot, and he's bet on worse odds.


Kirishima leans forward, chin resting on his hand and his half lidded gaze challenging Bakugou's last shred of sanity.

Bakugou scowls a bit harder, finding himself readjusting his position to block Kirishima from his line of sight. The fucker had already inconvenienced him enough by intruding on his dorm in his space, and now he couldn't keep his eyes off Bakugou.

"What, shitty hair," he challenges without looking up from his math homework, taking the tension's bait. "What the fuck do you want, huh?"

Kirishima's grin is mutinous. "Say, Bakugou, how do you feel about a contest?"

This catches his interest, which isn't hard, considering the alternative is math homework. "You know you'd fucking lose."

"I wish you'd get creative with your profanity. "Fuck you, fuck this, shitty hair," is that really all you got?"

"Fuck you," Bakugou spits, turning to face his unfortunate choice of a friend. "Bastard."

"There's that creativity!"

He just stares at Kirishima with a frown on his face. "Well?"

Unperturbed, the redhead leans back lazily and shrugs. "Since you don't seem very interested—"

"The fuck I'm not. Tell me," Bakugou demands, annoyance growing.

Kirishima hums noncommittally. "Let's say we have a race to the commons room. And the loser gets to dare the other to do whatever they want."

Bakugou nods before Kirishima is finished, already all ears. This Saturday had been boring anyway, with nothing to do except for weight training in the morning and homework this afternoon. If he won, he could get a good sparring match in with Kirishima. He saw no need to dare him to do something embarrassing. Not because Bakugou was a nice guy, because he wasn't , but only because Kirishima did embarrassing things all the time and did not give a shit. He could dare Kirishima to fight him. He was nowhere near Bakugou in attack power, but played defense well, making for a formidable opponent. At the very least, he'd get to have a good race in, and maybe do some damage along the way. Deku was gone, so there was no one to torment. Kirishima would have to do for the time being.

Bakugou sizes him up with a tilt of his head. "Yeah, whatever," he agrees.

Kirishima's grin widens, muscles visibly tensing with a semblance of pure controlled energy. Impressive enough for him, considering nothing ever seemed to bother him, but the guy sure could channel his undying energy into competitiveness when the time came.

In half a second, Kirishima is up and halfway across the room, throwing the bed's comforter at Bakugou and slamming the door shut behind him. His laughter follows him down the hallway as Bakugou seethes.

"The FUCK," Bakugou yells and sails out of the room after him. "You didn't say go!"

The dorm no longer was the maze it was in the beginning, but the corridors still felt unending. Even though he couldn't use his explosions to propel himself, he was faster than Kirishima. He was too dense and weighed more than Bakugou. Still, it was quite a feat of strategy to get a head start the way he did. _It was smart_ , Bakugou admits begrudgingly, _but he's gonna fucking die_.

He grins maniacally as he launches himself through the open window at the end of the hall, explosions softening his descent to the first floor of the dorm. Kirishima may play smart, but Bakugou plays dirty. Kirishima never specified that he had to stay inside the building. He clambers into the common room window, three floors below, and throws himself onto the couch.

Not thirty seconds later, Kirishima comes charging down the stairs, breathing heavily. He freezes when he sees Bakugou, the glee on his face swapping to a look of wonder. "But—"

"Took you long enough," Bakugou deadpans.

"How…?"

He smiles dangerously, leaning forward. "Just dropped in."

Kirishima's eyes trail slowly from Bakugou to the open window, his mouth forming an _O._ "You—"

"I can't believe you though you could beat me, Shitty Hair. Even after you pulled that stunt with slamming the door in my face. The fuck was that about, huh?"

Bakugou jumps up suddenly from the couch, looming over Kirishima. "Sounds like you owe me something, huh? A dare?"

Kirishima nods, looking unsettled. If anyone could put up with his shit, it was Kirishima. Bakugou's scathing remarks and crude profanity normally had no effect on the boisterous teenager. _What gives?_ thinks Bakugou sullenly. It isn't that he likes that he has no effect on Kirishima, but this—this is disconcerting. He takes in Kirishima's tightened fists, and his wide eyed look. The only thing worse would have been if he wouldn't look Bakugou in the eye. For some odd reason, he didn't think he could take that.

Bakugou isn't soft. He didn't come to Yuuei to make friends. But somewhere along the way, this little brat had weaseled his way into his dorm room far too many times and there's just part of Bakugou that feels like his life would be less without Kirishima.

"Look," he says gruffly, "It's fine if you're a sissy. Whatever." He plops back down on the couch, avoiding eye contact.

Kirishima hasn't moved, still glancing uneasily at Bakugou.

"Well?" Bakugou prods, uneasy with the silence of his chatterbox of a classmate.

Shaking himself out of his reverie, Kirishima seems to wipe their last exchange out of his memory and sits down on the couch way too close for Bakugou's liking, but he doesn't move.

"Well," Kirishima glances upwards in feigned nonchalance, "It only seems fair you get a dare. After all, those were the terms."

Bakugou shifts uncomfortably, unsure of how to react to his mood change. "Yeah."

Kirishima's smile turns predatory. "Unless you're scared."

He scrunches up his nose in disgust and huffs. "The actual fuck? I wasn't the one cowering a minute ago."

He knows he shouldn't have said it before he even registers the look on Kirishima's face, but it's too late. "Fuck," he says harshly, unable to convene any semblance of an apology.

Kirishima looked at the floor. "No, you're right. What's my dare?"

Bakugo looks at him, really looks at him. This is the man who has fought by his side training exercise after training exercise, battle after battle. He's never been fucking scared or upset at any other time, and now he's uneasy with _him._ Nothing could hurt more.

Kirishima knows him. He knows he's rough around the edges and doesn't have a fucking filter. He knows he can't apologize. Previous dare forgotten, Bakugou hopes that taking a leap might be worth it. Or he could fall flat on his fucking face. It's a fifty-fifty shot, and he's bet on worse odds.

"Alright," Bakugou says forcefully, causing Kirishima to look up. "I dare you to kiss me."

Recognition dawns in Kirishima's eyes, and there is no hesitation. He surges forward to meet Bakugou, pressing him backward against the couch. The kiss is an assurance of something he was doubting heavily only moments ago.

Kissing Kirishima is messy, avoiding teeth and saliva. But the fact is, even though Kirishima can't keep his hands in one place for longer than ten seconds, Bakugou doesn't want to throttle him. And that's a newer feeling than Bakugou would like to admit. Eventually, the boys pull back, out of breath but satisfied. A leisurely grin adorns Kirishima's face.

"You know, all I was just going to dare you to do was to streak across the girl's dorm."

And with that, Bakugou unceremoniously and deservedly shoves him off the couch.


End file.
